classy girls
by emmaswaning
Summary: a sort of songfic set to/inspired by the song Classy Girls by The Lumineers. Myka and H.G. go to a bar in small-town Texas.


_**an:**_ a sort of songfic set to/inspired by _Classy Girls_ by The Lumineers. Also note that I have never been to Coldspring, Texas, or Texas for that matter, so I hope I don't offend anyone with this.

* * *

"Myka, dance with me," Helena had pleaded. They were in a small town called Coldspring, Texas, investigating a possible artifact-related series of bar fights that had broken out in the last week. Which, when she thought about it, Myka realized that it could have just been the mix of Texan blood and shots of whiskey. While her and Helena were investigating their case, Pete was with Artie doing inventory, and Claudia and Steve were out in Nebraska having a much more exciting time in the fields of the state. Helena had decided that the best way to get a better perspective on their case was to go to the bar and stakeout anyone or anything suspicious. Three shots of whiskey and two shots of tequila later, Myka's body felt warmer, but their case had gotten no new leads (unsurprisingly). Helena had never been to a classic western bar, let alone one with a live band. When a particularly upbeat song began playing, Helena downed the remainder of her whiskey, ran a hand through her hair, and stood up from her seat. Myka noticed other people at the bar standing out in the open floor to dance with their friends and sighed. She knew where it was going to go, and the minute Helena uttered, "dance with me," Myka laughed quietly in embarrassment.

"I'd love to-"

"Wonderful!"

"but," Myka continued, "I don't really...dance."

"Myka, darling Myka," Helena walked over to Myka's side of the booth and clutched the other woman's hands in her own. Myka noted that the alcohol she had consumed couldn't possibly account for the feeling of Helena's hands in hers. "In the time I've known you, you have never...what's the term, 'let loose'? I believe this one time, in this Texas bar, with me, you should let loose. Have fun, dance a little bit."

"With you," Myka added.

Helena nodded and smiled the smile that made Myka's heart flutter, "With me."

Myka sighed and felt her resolve crumble when she glanced at Helena's face, "Fine. Fine, for this one time, you will see me let loose. I mean, how often will we find ourselves in a Texan bar?"

Helena outreached her arm and raised her eyebrows. Myka rolled her eyes and grabbed it, and found herself pulled whimsically out of her booth and immediately pressed against Helena. The band that was playing in the bar began playing a song that was a bit fast-paced for Myka's taste, but the crowd seemed to enjoy it. Some couples began dancing while others sat at their chairs and clapped. The song was something bluegrass-esque that Myka couldn't identify, but while everyone else was dancing to the beat, Myka and Helena continued to slow dance to whatever it was. It was when the song finished and began playing Nancy Sinatra's "These Boots Are Made For Walkin'" that Myka laughed against Helena's shoulder. Myka felt Helena's hands wandering down to clutch her ass and pulled her head back in surprise. Helena's eyes seemed bigger in the light of the bar and she pressed a hand to Helena's chest. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it wasn't, but Myka was far beyond uninterested at the concept of being groped in a country bar. Even if she was incredibly interested in the woman doing the groping.

Myka fell back into their initial pose of her head resting on Helena's shoulder and said quietly, "Slow down there, cowboy."

"I'm terribly sorry," Helena sounded as surprised as Myka had been.

* * *

The crowd eventually winded down when it was past ten o'clock. Many of the men and women had filed out, much to Myka's surprise, and she had sat down before that to continue surveying the men and women. Helena took a seat beside Myka, instead of across the booth, tapping her fingers nervously on the tabletop.

"Is something wrong?"

Helena shrugged, "I'm just nervous."

"About?" Myka turned in her position, her back against the window near her booth.

"I find I'd like to kiss you. Perhaps it's the bar, the lighting, the way you look tonight-I'm not quite sure."

Myka laughed quietly for a split second and turned her head down before she said, "But classy girls don't kiss in bars, you fool."

Helena's eyes widened, "Why?"

Myka shrugged, "It's nothing you're doing wrong, it's just what it is," she brought her hand up and gestured around the bar, the tacky neon-lit signs, the wooden cowboy silhouette that leaned against the front door, the standard country decals, "Classy girls don't kiss in bars like this."

* * *

"Myka, have you found anything?"

"No, Helena and I haven't gotten anything yet. We talked to the owner and he said that the fights broke out the same time each day, around 9:14 p.m., but we've been here past that and nothing has happened so far. I doubt anything will happen to be honest. We're gonna head back to the hotel and just come back tomorrow."

"Keep me updated."

Both women nodded and Myka shut the Farnsworth. The band was playing the last song of the night and Helena raised her brows.

Helena smiled hopefully, "One more dance before our night ends?"

Myka regarded Helena with a smile and shrugged, "Why not."

When they resumed the same position they had found themselves in earlier that night on the floor of the bar, Helena posed the question: "The premise of classy girls not kissing in bars, where did that come from, exactly?"

"College roommates," Myka answered with a smile. Her smile grew when Helena's hand squeezed her hip possessively. "They were a bit older than I was, just a few years or so. They used to tell me,_ 'classy girls don't kiss in bars, boys will break their backs and hearts'_. It was sort of our little group motto."

Helena smiled cheekily. "Luckily for you, I am no boy, nor man."

* * *

Helena found out at the end of the night that while classy girls didn't kiss in _bars_, they _did_ kiss outside of shared hotel rooms.


End file.
